Things Will Never Be The Same
by Crystal Fissure
Summary: "At that moment, Eli felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Something harsh and cynical he had promised himself he would never feel again: fear." Clare and Eli's thoughts during the dramatic scene in All Falls Down Pt 2. ElixClare Oneshot


**A/N: I've been dying to write an EClare angst story. XD I never quite found the inspiration until some of my friends told me they were so unimpressed with the ending of All Falls Down Part 2 that they were honestly considering not watching the rest of the season in October. O_o To me, that's preposterous and no reason not to follow the series anymore. I'm assuming they just didn't understand the ending. Well, here is what I got from it. :) I think it turned out fluffier than I wanted but... oh well. XD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi or any of its affiliates. I do not own the song Hotblack by Oceanship nor do I own any of the lyrics used in this story.**

* * *

Music was his escape. It let him flee to a safe place where the pressures of the real world wouldn't find him, blinded by the soft melodies and angry lyrics. He could lose himself in music, allowing the harmonies to soothe his thoughts, calm his heartbeat. But music… it was like the wind. You know it's there but you can't see it, feel it, touch it. And sooner or later, the pressures of the real world always caught up to him, tearing their way through his music's paper thin walls. Music offers some escape; it can never make the problem go away.

He watched the girl as she frantically pulled the speakers out of his ears, tearing him away from his escape. It would be useless to be angry; his music didn't even put up a fight. It left him, abandoned him when the threat of the outside world presented itself.

He gazed solemnly at her. Her eyes were filled with sheer terror. He couldn't say if he'd ever seen an angel with terror stricken eyes before. Heck, it was odd enough he'd even seen an angel walk the earth.

That's right. Clare Edwards was nothing short of virtuous. A perfect angel, fallen from heaven itself and doomed to walk the earth, the ungrateful, hateful earth that didn't deserve her flawless steps. And he, the sadistic, evil, idiot of a boy he was, let himself fall for her.

"Eli, you have to come with me. Fitz has a knife."

How bizarre. A lovely voice like hers, sweet as honey and soft as the rain, yet her words spat bouts of vinegar and poison. He felt sorry for her. The poor angel… getting caught between a feud amongst a pure monster and a sadistic boy who loved her more than he deserved to, offering herself as a means to end it all. He didn't want her to; she brought it upon herself. Angels don't deserve this torment, especially not the kind that looms around him, following him, haunting him.

The terror stricken angel that stood before him was able to take the torment away when she graced him with her presence. She just needed to let him deal with his own pressures; something she did not understand. Angels live in a state of pure innocence; they think a problem can be resolved with words and compassion. They know nothing of the world beyond their borders, the world of violence and unfairness. It would anger him slightly when she would come between his battles, offering herself as a reasonable sacrifice. So, why did he keep forgiving her? Oh, that's right… because he cared, because she mattered. And he must matter to her in some way; otherwise she wouldn't even try to save his already lost soul.

"This is the part where we run, let's go!"

So… this is what it's come to.

The mindless war between his enemy and himself has taken a violent turn, has it? Usually, their bouts would be somewhat harmless where one of them would emerge the victor. His enemy has now decided he had taken it too far. Spilling blood would end this battle, maybe even the entire war altogether.

Eli didn't want to die. God knows, he absolutely did not want to die. But he was tired of running. He would spend days running, escaping the evil that pursued him. Evil was faster; it was _always_ faster. If it was the end, the end of the war or the end of his life, he won't go down without a fight. Evil was not in control. The only way to control evil… is to be feared by it.

"I'm not going to let that jerk scare me."

The terror disappeared from her eyes as a flash of anger crossed her perfect face. He examined the confusion and perplexity that loomed its way around her anger, filling the cracks her fury was not able to hide. She was confused he would not run in the face of danger. But, Clare was smart; she knew him too well. She was angry, enraged and absolutely furious; not with him but with the fact that she knew he would not listen to her. He never did.

"Eli, he _has_ a _knife_!"

She spat vicious words at him, tugged at his heart and his mind, praying her rage would convince him to listen, to just _listen_ for a change. She implored for a chance to escape with him, to convince him to leave with her. For once, for a chance they may be together.

His gaze was firm and hard, like tempered steel. He wouldn't let her get through to him. Enough was enough. His ongoing feud was coming to a vicious turn and she needed to listen to him, trust him enough to step aside and let him handle it. Even if it meant him getting hurt.

He relaxed his firm glare ever so slightly at the sight of her anger-filled sapphire eyes. She would get involved in his battles just for a chance to rescue him from any amount of pain she could. She cared too much about him, much more than he deserved.

He wished he could laugh at her innocence. No matter how much she cared for him, he cared for her more. If she would just step away, if she would just not come between his battles… he could die happy, if it came down to it. At least he knew _she_ wouldn't be hurt.

Here, in the dark hallway of their school, awaiting the danger they knew would come much too quickly for their comfort, Eli Goldsworthy glared fire and daggers at the girl who reviewed his English assignments, the girl he kissed so few hours ago, the girl who had stolen his heart these last few weeks… silently praying she would understand why he couldn't let her save him anymore. Not this time.

"Aw, don't you two look cute!"

His voice rang through the halls like the screeching of fingernails on a blackboard, sending shivers down their spines. Eli turned to face _him_, his enemy, his annoyance, the source of all of his _goddamn problems_. With an evil smirk on his monstrous face, Fitz approached them solemnly, the infamous silver blade glinting in his hand. He felt Clare shiver beside him. He wondered what her eyes must look like now; the anger she felt towards him would be melting away at this moment, replaced by fear and agony. Maybe they would tear up, adding a glassy look to her perfect eyes. Eli kept his glare focused. Clare could be scared; she could cry if she wanted. But he… can never back down. _Ever_. It was the only way to plant the slightest bit of fear in his enemy.

"You should go."

Surprising. Through her fear and agony, the angel actually spoke with fierceness and determination. She cast her fear aside, fire burning in her voice.

"And let pretty boy here make time with my date?"

He was closer now, merely inches away from them, his figure towering over their small frames, eliciting dread, terror and the threat of violence and harm. She cowered slightly, letting the fear overtake her as she watched him swiftly make his way to the boy standing beside her, dismissing her as his hungry eyes sniffed out the fear in his victim. She felt panic begin to creep up her spine, overtaking her nerves as her thoughts leaned towards the worst possible situation… the boy, the wonderful boy she cared so much about, even after his antics and childish stupidity… dead, lifeless, limp on the linoleum flooring, his skin and jacket tainted with scarlet, his eyes glazed and white as she held his lifeless form, soaking him with her tears and staining her hands and clothes with his blood…

She had to do _something_.

"Please, Fitz," she pleaded, hesitant and vulnerable, "d-don't do this…"

"Shut up, bitch!"

Eli felt her jump beside him at the ferocity in his voice, his eyes spitting fire at her innocence. He breathed in deeply, feeling slight moisture overtake his eyes. This was not her battle. It had nothing to do with her. And she was the one being victimized… he can't have that.

She can't be here.

He nudged her arm, pushing her away as he stared at the ground, fighting back the moisture in his eyes. He felt her reluctance to move as she stood in place, withstanding the impact of his nudge. She wasn't going to move, wasn't going to leave his side. She didn't understand, she didn't _fucking understand_! She can't rescue him anymore… or risk getting hurt again. He won't have it.

"Get away from me," he spat, adding the most cyanide and poison he could into his voice, glaring knives at her as he pushed her aside. He had to instil fear and turmoil in her to get her to do what he wants; it's the only way. He hated to hurt her. He had no other choice. She didn't give him any other option.

He watched her pain stricken gaze as she backed away, letting herself smash into the lockers, her eyes becoming glassy and clouded. He could barely see sapphires anymore; all he saw was dull, grey graphite covered by a film of salty moisture. He silently wished she could see past his evil glare and hateful words. He also knew his wish meant nothing; she could never understand.

He finally turned to face his enemy, staring directly into his angry, hate-filled eyes. He saw the blade glint brightly from the corner of his eye, laughing at him, teasing him. That damn piece of silver held everything he ever owned in its greedy shine; his life, his dignity… and tears. Not his tears; no, he'd never let those spill, no matter much they menaced to trickle from the corner of his eyes. They held Clare's tears, salty ribbons of moisture that danced on the rim of her now dull eyes. Those were his most prized possession; tears belonging to the epitome of perfection that held his heart in her dainty hands. And that knife, that godforsaken piece of silver mocked him, threatening to take everything away from him. Threatening to make those perfect tears run down her perfect face; not allowing him to catch them before they fell or assuring her he would never let them fall again.

At that moment, Eli felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Something harsh and cynical he had promised himself he would never feel again: _fear_.

He felt nothing but raw, hysterical _fear_.

Fear that his life would end; that he would never be able to graduate high school, move on to college, live out his dreams. That he would leave his family behind, forcing them to mourn his loss and arrange a funeral they were never supposed to have the burden of arranging. That he would leave his friend Adam behind without a friend who was compassionate or understanding enough to just _accept_ him for who he was. But most of all, he feared for Clare, the angel that trembled on the other side of the hallway, completely helpless with her back against the cold metal lockers. If his life were to end here, he didn't think he'd be able to watch as she would fall to his side, staining her perfect hands in scarlet blood, watching as the tears would stream freely down her rosy cheeks, helpless, defenceless as their tormenter smirked and laughed at the angel's broken heart. That would be worse than death, worse than hell itself. Imagine that; the last thing he would ever see was the flawless angel who had stolen his heart, pain stricken and overcome with agony, crying.

And he would reminisce about her in those last few moments. And he would wonder what _would _have been. There was so much he wanted to do with her, to say to her. He wanted to sit outside with her on a sunny day in autumn again, laughing and joking the way they always would. He wanted to see her wrinkle her nose as she read a particularly distorted scene in his last English composition again. He wanted to make her listen to one of his favourite songs. He knew she'd enjoy it. How did the lyrics go again?

_Fix a smile but you burn it hot_

_It's a mad mad world_

That's right; it was a mad, mad world.

He wanted to say the things he'd never said. He wanted to say he was sorry for all the pain his feuding had caused her, even though she had been the one who dragged herself into this mess in the first place. He wanted to annoy her with his sarcasm but draw her in with his honey-coated words. He wanted the day to come when he would say 'I love you' to her… and see her smile light up her face when she heard these words.

He didn't want to die. He couldn't die. There's so much he hasn't done yet.

And as much as he refused to hurt his pride, there was only one other option that presented itself, only one escape…

Apologize. And mean it.

"Look," he said softly, his voice breaking under the dampness that threatened to cover his fearful eyes again, "I'm sorry… for everything. You win."

Fitz scoffed at him, a menacingly wide smile spreading across his evil face. He advanced forward, backing Eli into the door. No escape. Cornered.

"Ha! I've heard that one before!"

Apologies have failed him again. He all but felt his heart drop when he heard a tight gasp escape from the girl by the lockers as she watched this painful scene unfold in front of her. He wanted to fall to the ground, plead, cry, scream, _anything_. Anything at all, anything to take the agony away.

_Don't back down_, he told himself, keeping a frightened yet firm look on his enemy. He wanted to give up, surrender, let his knees give out underneath him and fall to the floor; but that's exactly what Fitz wanted. And exactly what he swore he'd never do again.

How do you get rid of a bully? Refuse to be the victim. Keep them scared. No matter what.

_Keep. _

_Them _

_Scared._

He felt his back knock the glass door as he backed away again, attempting in any way to escape his approaching doom. Not because he was scared. No, he'd never show Fitz how he was scared out of his wits. He kept distance between them for his own sanity.

"Please…" he said delicately, feeling his eyes become glassy, "…don't do this."

Pleading. He'd resorted to pleading. Never did he think he would stoop to that level. But these were serious circumstances, a life or death situation. Pleading made him feel weak. But, if he kept his gaze firm and angry on Fitz, he was still exerting some form of authority. Even with his pleading and fear stricken eyes, he still kept a straight face.

Fitz twirled his knife in his hand, preparing the firm grip he needed if he were to use it. A hold made for stabbing. Just for Eli.

_Don't back down, don't back down, don't back down,_ he repeated incessantly in his mind, feeling the antagonizing fear build up in his spine as he caught a glimpse of the blade, merely inches away from his skin, hungry for his blood. He kept his gaze on Fitz, showing any form of courage or pride he still had left in him.

This was the end, wasn't it? Somehow he knew… it ended here.

He wished he could turn to look at Clare one last time, one last crucial time. To look in her eyes, even if they were grey and sombre, to see her prefect face even if her skin was white with fear and her cheeks were red with agony. To say three words to her, his last three words she would ever hear, hoping they would give her some form of closure over how he felt about her, how she had stolen his heart and kept everything about him, every fibre of his being, in her gentle, delicate hands. Three words he had wanted to say to her for so long. _I love you._

"Someone's got to shut you up."

Fitz plunged the knife, causing Eli to jump back and violently hit the door, clutching his side. Clare let out a gasp that sounded like a shriek of terror.

It was over… it was all over.

Funny… He always assumed it would hurt more than this, that the pain pulsating from his wound would take the energy out of him as his quick loss of blood would make him feel dizzy and faint. Yet, now, he felt… nothing. No pain in his side, no feelings of vertigo. Was he already dead?

He heard Fitz chuckle slightly, smiling evilly at him like a kid on Christmas. How could someone laugh when they've just murdered someone? He snickered with an air of pride and authority, as if he'd won the lottery…

Eli's eyes widened. With shock, terror, anger… but most of all, understanding.

He understood. _Everything_.

With a terror stricken gaze, he let himself slide to the ground, his breath becoming shorter as he hit the floor, feeling himself losing all feeling in his legs as he stared at the spot, the _exact_ spot where Fitz had thrust the knife.

He missed Eli. By a mile. The silver knife protruded steadily from the wall, mocking his stupidity.

"Don't worry. You can bleach out urine stains!" Fitz laughed.

He wasn't sure what happened next. The rest just seemed to be a haze. There were flashlights, cops, people taking Fitz away in handcuffs… it didn't matter to him. It just didn't matter anymore.

He felt Clare run to his side, falling to her knees beside him, relief washing over her as she found the boy she cared for intact and completely healthy. She may have been relieved, but her mouth still hung slightly open, shocked at the events she had just witnessed. He couldn't blame her; she must have been terrified. He was terrified as well; terrified she may have been hurt. Yet, even with this perfect angel slouching beside him with a stunned look upon her face, he couldn't bring himself to look at her.

That knife, that godforsaken knife… had changed everything.

Eli Goldsworthy had come to a realization that night; he lost.

He was at war with Fitz since that jerk decided to mess with his car. For revenge, Eli got him arrested. They had different battles from time to time; sometimes, Fitz would win. Other times, Eli would be the one laughing from the sidelines. He imagined he was smarter than Fitz. His antics were always theatrical while Fitz would rely solely on his fists. Getting him arrested, witty comebacks and slipping ipecac into his drink… he was certain it counted as many brownie points in his favour. There wasn't a doubt in his mind, he was winning the war.

And now, with the flick of a tiny silver blade, the war was over. And Eli had lost miserably.

Fitz wormed his way into his mind… and he was scarred forever. He remembered the day not too long ago when he returned to school with a bloody lip. He explained to his angelic English partner how he had gotten his enemy arrested. He remembered how Clare had touched his lip in concern and how he had never felt happier. He also remembered his exact words to her:

_I'm in his head. Right where I want to be._

The tables had turned now. Fitz was in _his_ mind, right where he wanted to be.

This wasn't a simple misunderstanding of mistaken identity; it was much more. Fitz had traumatized him, scarred his mental stability in a way that he never imagined he could recover.

How do you recover from a near death experience? Eli wasn't sure. But he was sure of one thing; he lost. He lost the war.

Fitz had exposed the part of him he tried to keep hidden away from those he cared about; he may be a badass when it came to standing up for himself and he may not be a pushover but… when instilled with fear, he cracks, exposing a fearful, emotional side. The side that doesn't stand up and fight, the side that feels sorry for himself.

He may have thought he was exerting authority by not cowering with fear at the sight of Fitz's demonic gaze and deadly weapon… but he was just giving him what he wanted. _Fear_.

And now, as he sat trembling with shock against a hallway door, staring at the knife that threatened to end his life, it was all clear in his mind: Fitz won. He lost.

He turned his gaze ever so slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the angel who did all but throw herself at him a moment ago, shivering with shock. Maybe she was right… Maybe, had he let the war go after getting him arrested, nothing would have happened. Eli wasn't the type to back down, especially when Fitz started adding Adam into the equation but… what if he just ignored it? Would it have gone away? He couldn't tell… he didn't know how Fitz's mind worked. But he knew the series of events both boys had brought upon themselves tonight made one thing clear.

Things will never be the same.

And Clare… his sweet, innocent Clare. All of the things he wanted to say to her, to do with her… would he ever be able to do them? Something told him he wouldn't, at least not sometime soon, not after tonight.

It's funny. A few hours ago, he had kissed her. He counted the seconds he spent away from her during his French exam and, through their playful flirting, she subliminally asked to be his girlfriend, to which he happily complied. But… that was hours ago. Before this mess. At this point, they were both in distant worlds, searching for any proof of normality that would keep their sanity intact.

And after everything that took place tonight, let's face it… things will never, _ever_, be the same…

* * *

**As I'm sure you already guessed, the end was mainly my thoughts on the finale. Sure, it may sound depressing, but it isn't, I assure you. :) It's kind of a... how shall I say... open ending? In other words, I'm expecting a lot of EClare storylines in the new season. XD Hope you guys enjoyed it and please review! Reviews make me happy. They also make me write more Eclare goodness. =)**


End file.
